#gryffinpuff

It all started with Umbridge. The worst person since He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named came back. Parading around in her pink and pretty cardigans, calling out with that sickly sweet voice of hers to teachers that were no longer allowed to teach. You even felt bad for Snape. He could be an ass, but at least he still judged the students fairly. 

Then again, he did always seem to have something against Harry and his friends. But that wasn’t anything new. You supposed seeing the boy that looked exactly like your high school bully, as well as your high school crush, wasn’t exactly easy after the former put you through a lot. Not that it should excuse his behaviour as a teacher. 

Either way, he was still miles better than the walking-talking-cursing Prissy Pink Professor. 

“Are you alright?” 

For the last twenty minutes, you’d heard a quiet hissing of pain. At first you thought that maybe it was a draft of high wind coming through one of the cracked window panes. But, finally going in search of it, you turned a corner and found one of the Weasley twins at an old shabby desk. 

“What?” Swiftly, he covered his arm and hand with his robe, but from the twitch in his eye, it just caused more pain. 

“You’re hurt.” 

The Twin smiled, looking over his study books. “Oh, yeah. Muggle math – can hurt anyone’s brain.”

In a hushed whisper, you moved forward and sat across from him. “Not that. Your hand.”

“Oh.” He moved it. “It’s nothing. Just one of Umbridge’s new methods of torture.”

“Show me?” 

Looking into his eyes, you saw the pain behind the mask he was putting up. And, as he looked back, he saw the anger behind the worry. 

“It’s nothing, really.” He told you, showing you the back of his hand. “I’ve had them before.”

Getting close enough to see the raised and red markings etched into his skin, you almost managed to reach for his hand until one of the new ministry appointed library attendants appeared. With a wave of their wand, you were sent flying back. 

Fred was shocked at the look in your eyes as you glared towards the attendant. Truthfully, he didn’t think Hufflepuff’s could hold such a feeling. 

Only once they had disappeared, you turned back to him. “Can you make it to the kitchens? After classes?”

“Why-”

“I can heal them,” you told him, your voice soft but steady. “If you’ll let me.”

Fred nodded, and you nodded back before taking your leave. However, just before you turned the corner, you heard a whispered, “Oi.”

“What’s your name?” He asked you. 

“Y/n.”

“Fred.”

With a brief smile, you said, “I’ll see you later, Fred.”

And you did. 

Despite the regulations and the rules and the curfew, you managed not only to make sure Fred got a note for the time to meet, but you also managed to make it into the kitchens without being seen. 

As did Fred. 

“Come with me.”

Lightly dragging Fred behind you, you made it to the kitchen storage cupboard and closed the door. 

It took you less than twenty seconds to find what you were looking for, before turning back to face him. Walking closer so there was less than eight inches of distance between you both, you asked him to hold out his hand. 

“Is this even legal?”

You shrugged. “Even the ministry can’t stop Madam Pomfry from teaching students how to heal themselves.”

Fred laughed quietly. “I guess you’re right.”

“She’s such a bitch,” you mumbled under your breath as you read the notes scarred into Fred’s skin. “I can’t believe she’s doing this to students.”

“Nobody can.” Fred replied. “But who is the Ministry going to believe?”

You gave a sigh, shaking your head. “For all their fuss over exams, you’d think they’d give her one to see if she’s suitable even being around kids. If you’d ask me, I’d say she should be locked up in a padded room.”

“Padded room might be too nice,” Fred said. “George and I found two first years crying on the bridge yesterday.”

You sighed again. “I’ll give you some extra. No doubt you’ll find more students in the same way. And I suspect your brother has the same scars?”

Fred nodded, lightly. “You’re a healer?”

“So I’m told.”

Fred didn’t recognise you from any of his classes, so you had to be younger. “Kinda young to be a healer. I’m surprised the Ministry hasn’t tried to snatch you up.”

You shook your head. “The less people know at school, the better.”

“And…” Fred whispered. “If people ask why I suddenly have healing balm?”

Looking up at him, meeting his gaze, you smiled slightly. “Then make something up.”

“Can’t you read? It says, "I must not tell lies.” Fred pointed to his arm, but even you knew from the hidden smile on his face he already had thirty different stories concocted in his head. 

“Say what you must,” you told him. “Umbridge has already been watching my every movement since I stood in her way of torturing that terrified second year last month.”

Rolling up your own sleeve to show him, Fred graciously took your hand in his before reading the four different scars. 

I must not be rude. 

I must be quiet. 

I must not be unkind. 

I must be grateful. 

“Well, they’re just lies.” Fred said. “But why do you still have them?”

“If I used the balm, Umbridge would know it’s me making it. If not, at least a Hufflepuff. This way, it keeps targets off our backs.”

“What about the rest of us?”

“She’s too busy hunting Harry for her to notice any other Gryffindors. She rarely attacks the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws have Fitwick. She probably thinks they’re too busy being taught spells, making sure their school work is done.”

Fred nodded. “I guess you have a point. But…” Fred’s voice turned soft, rather than quiet as he took a small dab of the healing balm and held your hand. “I do think this should be the first to go.”

Swiping it across the third line, you felt a small tingle before watching the writing disappear as if it had never even existed. 

“You don’t need to be reminded of that.”

You smiled a little, holding onto his hand for a mere moment. “Thank you.”

Fred smiled back, but both quickly vanished when you heard the clock tower strike eleven. 

“We better get back before her death squad has Filch string us up by our ankles,” Fred told you. 

You nodded. “You’re right.”

What followed was several secret weeks of helping and healing those that you could. To keep Umbridge’s suspicions off of you, as well as the others, when Fred gained another line of scars he stayed away from your healing balm for at least three days. 

That way, when he attended his last lesson with Umbridge on a Wednesday, she could still see the scars. 

“Fantastic, Ginny!” 

For the last few weeks since returning to school, Harry had been teaching everyone within the DA to cast a patronus. But, despite picking up on the other lessons rather quickly, this one was proving difficult. 

“It’s okay,” Fred told you. “We’ll get it eventually.”

“I just hope it isn’t too late.”

You practiced where and whenever you could. With all of Umbridge’s rules, it made it rather difficult. But, thankfully, the Kitchen elves rather enjoyed your company. 

And they were getting used to Fred. 

“What’s your happiest memory?” Fred asked you as you laid down a bowl of stew in front of him. 

Unable to concentrate between the stress of Umbridge, upcoming final end-of-year exams, early coursework for your NEWTs and trying to conjure a patronus. It meant your ability to relax was nowhere to be seen. 

But creating in the kitchen helped a little. 

“I don’t know.” You told him the truth. “I-I guess getting my Hogwarts letter. Kids at Primary school could be arseholes.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not here.”

You nodded, taking a seat opposite him. “I guess but…I dunno. It was easier to deal with them here. McGonnagall doesn’t take bullying lightly.”

“And Muggle schools do?”

You hummed. “They mostly just see it as kids being assholes. There isn’t much you can do to change their personalities. They’re only learning from their parents.”

Fred sighed. “Sounds tough. But, surely you’ve got a really happy memory?”

You shrugged. “I’m not exactly an optimist. I see…the truth. Yes, Umbridge is the worst. But she’s worse than that because she’s not even a good teacher.”

“Have you been speaking to Hermione?”

“I’m being serious, Fred. You know Snape’s a git, but at least he’s a decent teacher and knows what he’s doing. If he hates one of us, he hates us all.”

“Beg to differ.”

You just raised an eyebrow at Fred. “I’d say he even detests Malfoy. Not as much as he hates Harry, but…maybe equal to the rest of us.”

“Why do you suppose he hates Harry so much? It would be much easier if we could get all the teachers on our side.”

“Because Harry’s dad bullied him.”

“What?”

“But you didn’t hear it from me.”

Fred crossed a finger over his heart. But he didn’t have to. The understanding look in his eyes was enough. 

“How do you know all of this?”

“My mum was in their year,” you told Fred. “Apparently James Potter could be a right git. Until he wasn’t.”

Fred looked at you to continue. Then you smiled, softly. 

“He was fifteen. Like I said, kids are arseholes. But some grow out of it.” 

Fred nodded understandably before smiling. 

“So, yes, Snape hates Harry that little bit extra. But it also doesn’t excuse his behaviour. Anyway, I’m getting off track. My point is, at least compared to Umbridge, Snape is still a decent Professor who actually teaches us something useful. Unlike the pink, prissy, little princess.”

Fred snorted and you couldn’t help but laugh, too. 

For a few more hours, you and Fred sat and talked about…anything really. Food. Family. School. The Muggle World and his dad’s obsession. 

“I guess as Dad always says…or, I guess muggles. ‘The truth will out’.”

Moving your empty bowl before reaching for Fred’s who simply lifted it himself, walked with you towards the sink. 

“We also say ‘it’s the hope that kills you’.”

“Really?” 

You nodded. 

“Well that’s depressing.”

With a raise of your eyebrows, you nodded. As you cleaned and Fred dried, Fred sighed. 

“You’ve got to have at least one happy memory that will work.”

“Maybe.”

“Why don’t you try it now?”

“What?”

Moving over to grab your wand from the table, Fred handed it to you. 

“Try it now. Maybe it’s because everyone was in the room. Like you said before, you’re stressed because of exams. Maybe you just need a calmer setting.”

“Fred, I don’t think-”

“Please?” He begged. “Just…try.”

Sighing, you looked at your wand in your hand. If nothing happened, it wasn’t like it was anything new. 

“Okay.”

Stepping into the middle of the kitchen, where there was enough space in front of the fire for you and Fred to stand, you closed your eyes. 

“Maybe think of a different memory.”

He had a point. Thinking of your Hogwarts letter hadn’t exactly been working. 

“I know you can do it.”

“Okay.”

“Come on, I believe in you.”

“Okay, Fred.”

Fred.

Despite having most of your happiest memories at Hogwarts, most of the ones that you had tried hadn’t exactly worked. 

But something you hadn’t tried was thinking about a memory with the one person who, since starting your sixth year, had made you…incredibly happy. 

He was the light you’d found when lost in the dark of exams and fear. 

Fred Weasley.

Your mind fell to one memory in particular. Fred had realised he had seen you before you’d talked to him in the library that fateful day. 

He’d seen you at the Yule Ball the year prior. He hadn’t spoken to you, but he did ask you some questions about it in the kitchen before Christmas break. 

That was when he found out you’d decided not to attend, wanting to make full use of the empty gardens and greenhouse. But, your friends insisted on you going. That you would go as a group and it would be great fun. 

They just forget to mention they all had dates. So, you were left to sit and watch their coats and shawls, as well as their drinks. 

“So…you never danced?”

You shook your head, a small laugh forming though you didn’t know why. Maybe it was the nerves of admitting it outloud. 

“What?” Fred seemed truly shocked. “Did no-one ask you to dance? Not even once?”

You chuckled again as you stirred the filling for your mince pies. “Nope. But, it was probably for the best.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’ve got two left feet,” you told him. “I can barely walk in a straight line, let alone manage to avoid stepping on someone’s feet during a dance.”

“Rubbish!”

“It’s true!”

“No, it’s not. And I can prove it.”

“Oh, yeah? How?”

Pulling you away from the simmering mixture, Fred pulled you into the middle of the kitchen stone floor before holding you in a dancing frame. 

“Fred!”

“Look, my mum taught me how to dance. And I can teach you. You’ve just got to trust me. Do you trust me, Y/n?”

Explicitly. 

“Yes.”

Fred smiled at you, holding you a little closer. “Good.”

But when you looked down at your feet, he let go. But not for long. Tilting your chin up, he had you focus on him. “Eyes on me, love. Not your feet.”

“Are you sure about this, Fred? I mean-”

“You’re gonna go back on this leg first,” Fred gestured. “Then I’m gonna lead you around. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

Holding true to your word, you did trust him. And, eventually you got the hang of it. Letting him lead you was a difficult concept to grasp. More often than not, you’d done a lot of things independently. And, even though it took two to dance, it was still proving difficult. 

Until it wasn't and Fred was graciously waltzing you around the stone floor of the kitchen. 

That was the memory that filled you, from the very tips of your toes to the top of your eyes. 

“Expecto Patronum.”

From the end of your wand, carried wisps of blue light until suddenly both yourself and Fred saw a Wolf. It ran around a little before standing on the counter top and howled loudly. 

“Oh, my god.”

“That was brilliant!” Fred picked you up. “I knew you could do it.”

You didn’t have much time to do anything other than smile and hug him back, because both of you suddenly heard footsteps hurdling down the hallway. 

“Shit.”

“Quick.”

With a wave of your wand, your patronus was gone. And, with a wave of Fred’s the bowls were away with the rest, the soup on the stove was put to one side and the fire was crackled out. 

Just as the heavy wooden doors blew open, you and Fred dived under the kitchen cabinets. 

“In here.” Fred mouthed as footsteps and groaning got closer. 

“What is it, Mrs Norris? Where are they?” 

You shook your head at Fred. “We won’t fit,” you mouthed. 

Peaking above the edge, Fred saw the back of a few Slytherin boys and Filch. There was just enough time to shrink the pots inside. Fred got in first before quickly pulling you in with him. 

However, with the cabinet door slamming shut, you swore under your breath and quickly reached for your wand. 

Both you and Fred could hear footsteps growing closer as cabinet doors were ripped open, rifled through and then slammed shut. 

“This one!”

With a quick concealment charm from both yourself and Fred, you both held your breath as Draco and Filch looked inside. You silently prayed to Merlin that they didn’t inspect anymore and just left. 

It was compromising enough, the position you were in, laying on top of Fred inside a school kitchen cabinet; aside from all the other kinds of rules you were both breaking by being awake and in the kitchens at such a late hour. 

“It’s that bloody cat,” you heard Draco moan. “Nobody’s here.”

Another quick meow came from Mrs Norris before yourself and Fred heard the repeated running of footsteps away from the kitchens. 

Only when the kitchen sounded completely quiet, did you or Fred even move to breathe properly. 

“Are you okay?” Fred asked. 

You nodded, but lay your forehead on his chest briefly. “That was a close call. Are you alright?”

Fred nodded. “Never better.”

Suddenly realising the full extent of the compromising position you were very nearly caught in, you scoffed and hit his chest. But he just laughed. 

“Watch your head,” Fred told you twice as you helped him out. 

“Yes, Fred, I’m watching- ow!” 

“Ooh, even I felt that.” Fred said as she crawled out and stood beside you. “Here, let me see. Oh, you’ll be fine. Bit of a nasty bruise probably, but you’ll live.”

“Thank you, Doctor Weasely.”

“No problem.”

You chuckled, still rubbing the back of your head. 

“We better be getting back.”

Fred reached out for you. “They’ll still be patrolling the halls. We can’t risk it.”

“You’re probably right. What do you suggest we do in the meantime?”

What followed was two hours of you teaching Fred how to make the healing balm. He seemed to pick it up right away, which was when he explained what he and George had been working on. Including the plans to open their own store after graduation.

“Fred?” You called out, just before you went your separate ways. No doubt Filch would have Umbridge tighten the rules enough to choke everyone, after tonight. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For helping me. And…good luck.”

“What for?” He called back with a smile and a hushed whisper. 

“With your shop. I think you’ll do wonderful things.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That means a lot.” Fred laid his hand over his heart before you gave him one final courteous nod and headed straight for your common room. 

Two weeks later, Dumbledore’s Army was broken into. 

“What’s your name?” Fred asked the young boy. 

“Michael,” he sniffed. 

One look at the hand Michael was covering and Fred knew Umbridge had gotten to the poor boy, too. 

“It’s okay. It’ll heal up soon. Look, ours aren’t so bad now.” George showed him. 

Whether it was luck or fate, you started walking out into the courtyard. Drawn to you, Fred looked up before whistling sharply. 

Looking around, you spotted both Fred and George with their heads popping out of the archway. Fred beckoned you over, and once you entered under the shelter, you realised why. 

“Not again,” you said to yourself before crouching in front of the young boy, asking his name. 

I must not disrupt class, was scored into his hand. 

“Do you have any?” Fred asked you, crouching beside you. 

Reaching into your bag, you explained, “Just in luck. Made a fresh batch this morning.”

“This is good stuff, Michael.” Fred told him. “Y/n’s the best healer in all of Hogwarts. Learned from Madam Pomfry herself. She’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“Now, this may sting a little, but only for a second.” You softly warned Michael. 

“Want to hold my hand?” George asked as the young boy nodded. 

Holding onto George’s hand, Fred held the pot whilst you lightly dabbed the balm over his scars. There was a small hiss of pain from Michael’s lips before he settled down. 

“It’s all gone,” he whispered in shock. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled, screwing the lid back on the jar before handing it over to the boy. “You keep hold of that one. Give some to your friends. All you need is a little dab and wipe it over the words. They’ll be gone in seconds.”

“Thank you.”

“You better go and find your friends. Go on.” George encouraged. 

As the boy ran down the hallway, Harry came running out of Potion’s class and into the courtyard himself. Just in time for you all to hear the small cough leave Umbridge as she appeared. 

“You know, George. I always thought our futures lay outside the world of academic achievement.”

“Fred,” George smiled. “I’ve been thinking exactly the same thing.”

You smiled to yourself. “Please be careful. Both of you.”

Fred smiled, leaning down and pressing a small kiss to your cheek. “Always, love.”

You might not have been taking your OWLs, but you definitely heard the commotion. 

“What the hell is that?”

You laughed a little to yourself, turning back to your study parchment. “The sound of Freedom.”

And it truly was. At least, for most of the students. But there wasn’t any balm or potion you could brew to heal the loss that Harry suffered inside the Ministry of Magic. 

“You sneaky little liar!” 

It was Graduation day for the seventh years – including both Fred and George Weasley. 

You smiled as you poured multiple drinks at the table with a wave of your wand. “Hi, Fred.”

“You said I wouldn’t see you again unless it was at our shop!” 

You shrugged with a smile. “It would ruin the surprise. This will be the last day you’ll see me before Diagon Alley.”

“How did you-”

You smiled at him. “I’m a witch, Fred. I know a lot more than you think. And, also, George spotted me like twenty minutes ago and told me.”

“That…scoudrel! I can’t believe he told you before I got to.”

You smiled. “It really is wonderful news, Fred.”

“Well, thank you. Is there anything I can help with?”

You shook your head. “Just enjoy your graduation day. After the year we’ve all had, it was well earned.”

Fred nodded. “But how can I enjoy my day when you’re here? Behind a table.”

Looking over the large crowd filled with teary-eyed parents and students alike, you spotted the movers inside the Great Hall preparing for the Night portion of the day’s celebration. 

“There is a slow dance at the end of the night.” You told him. “If you still want to, I’ll share one dance with you.”

“You will?” Fred couldn’t hide his excitement. 

You nodded. “I will.”

Hurrying behind the desk, Fred held your face in his hands before pressing another kiss to your cheek. “Wonderful.”

You smiled. “Now, go, have fun. I’ve got things to sort through.”

It didn’t go unnoticed by Molly or Arthur the fact that Fred couldn’t tear his eyes from the edge of the Great Hall. First, at the feast where his eyes continuously tracked you, his hand reaching out and brushing yours as you passed. Then during the last official school dance everyone had to do. And finally, as the night was drawing to a close, Fred’s eyes were tracking you, almost fearful if he looked away you’d disappear forever. 

“You better bloody well ask her to dance,” Molly told him before herself and Arthur called it a night. 

George smiled. “Don’t worry, mum. I doubt Fred needs reminding.”

“I guess you’re right. Oh, we’re so proud of you boys.”

“So proud!”

As Molly and Arthur said their final farewells to leave both Fred and George for their final few hours at Hogwarts, they turned around once they knew neither twin was looking. 

“Molly.”

“Oh, let’s just stay. Just to see them dance. Honestly, dear, I have a good feeling about them.”

“We haven’t even met the poor girl yet.”

“Exactly my point,” Molly told her husband. “What if, in a few years, they get married?”

“Then we’ll get to see their first dance.”

“But how wonderful would it be to say we were there for this?”

It took less persuading than Arthur thought. So, sitting at the back behind a multitude of parents, Molly and Arthur Weasley watched as their son walked straight towards you, placed your hand in his own and walked you directly towards the dancefloor. 

“Oh, they’ve danced before,” Arthur whispered. 

“How can you tell?”

“Look at them. They glide.”

Molly peaked over one of the parent’s shoulders. “Ooh, they do glide.”

Eventually, they did leave. But only after George caught them both. 

CRUSHING ON YOU:

he gives you sweet but joking-sounding compliments, wanting to make you smile/blush but not being obvious with it

started seeking your presence in every room; the great hall, classes, outside, or quidditch playground. He just wanted to see you, hoped to see you, and was over the moon when he actually saw you

after that one time you complimented his potion skills; every time twins show you their new invention he unconsciously seeks your compliment. He may not know this himself, but you realized it, after one time you didn't say anything about his role in the thing, and he looked like a pouting, sad puppy...

him actually beaming after you compliment him

sometimes, his eyes subconsciously drop to your lips when talking to you

George would start helping you carry your books to classes. He would reason it, that he's doing it for something else you did (u never have idea what he's talking about), but he just doesn't want to admit it yet.

his heartbeat faster every time you suddenly touch him or show him any affection. Of course, he hides it with his usual playful expression, but he leans in your touch, and just hopes you're obvious to that

when it's crowded in the hall, he likes to put his hand on the small of your back to make sure you don’t get separated. First time he did it, you were flustered as crazy, and he didn't even realize what he did until you were already in the class! When he realized, he just joked that it's because you're getting lost too easily, but do you really believe in that...?

Him getting flustered yet excited to see you cheering over him (and Fred) during Quidditch matches. When it's a hot moment you even call his twins names, and it helps his determination (he has to win for you)

teacher catching him gazing lovingly at you. Sometimes they just let it slide because *young love*, but sometimes they ask him what he's doing and he comes up with an excuse or just shrugs

He’d find himself staring at you even in the Great Hall, as everyone is eating, and isn't it quite something for one of the Gryffindors to stare lovingly at Hufflepuff table?

unconsciously starts talking and thinking more about you when you aren't around. Like, the classes you don't share together, and something happens and he's like "Y/N would scrunch her nose and giggle at that, I can just see it" or while you eat at your house table, and George casually starts talking about you to Fred and Jordan "Isn't she clumsy, lately? Nearly fall on her face while going today to the library!" not realizing his obvious puppy eyes.

George, being the more emotional twin, enjoys just being his calm, sometimes worried or serious self with you. He's happy that you don't only like him (and Fred) for being funny guys, but also like him when he's too tired or too worried of being a fun guy. He likes having emotional and serious conversations with you.

CONFESSING TO YOU

He didn't want to confess to you for the longest time, not because he's shy, but because he's insecure. He loves Fred more than anything, but he can't help but sometimes feel that people prefer him. And so, he was bloody terrified, that you would be just another person who would prefer his twin. And he couldn't hear you say it, because it would break him, he knew that.

so it wasn't until Fred finally decided to speak with him about matter. Encourage him, tell him that Geroge is your favourite twin and it's obvious to everyone. And after a few days of that, he finally confessed to you.

people would assume that being Weasley twin, George would be confident and confess with a boom, but no. At said time he felt like nervous wreck, feeling his palms sweating, and his tongue-tied as if hexed. Nonetheless, one evening, as you two were strolling through the school grounds, he finally confessed with a nervous smile.

And you? Well... You couldn't be happier.

YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM

simp, soft bf, pouting when you're annoyed at him

loves you to the moon and back

compliments you everyday, from general to very specific things

"You're the most beautiful person in the Great Hall.""That mole you have on [place] suits you well. I love it. Can I kiss it?"

after you two started dating, he started doing unconscious things, like fixing your clothes after hugging you or having out session, and also fixing your hair when the wind makes it all in your face. It's like breathing for him

Forehead kisses. holding hands always. back hugs at random times.

You were already comfortable with him as friend, but now, as you are with him, you feel that you can turn off your brain, and be hundred percent sure that he will make sure you will not get hurt.

he’ll never ever cross your boundaries (unless you want him too?)

he’s in touch with his emotions, so you’ve probably seen him cry and be furious a few times.

somehow you made a habit of napping on each other's shoulders. Sometimes even on each other's thighs...

he always lean into your touch, even when he's with his brother or friends. he would never be embarrassed of loving you

normally isn't easy to be flustered, but when it comes to you... well, let me tell you, that you have your ways of making his cheeks pink

as your bf he will sometimes do silly, gentleman things like; holding an open door for you, trying to stall stairs for you so u can make it on time, or leave some cute paper charms on your table.

will treat you like royalty you are

when you're too tired to get back to your own common room, he would give you a piggy back ride

pretty sure, he would give you massages when you're tired (in exchange for a kiss ;))

he wants to know even more about you

wanting to - somehow - be part of your hobby. For example; if u like reading, he would ask you to read out loud for him, or ask to borrow your fav book, so you would have a new share topic to talk about. And if you like make-up, he will gladly let you use himself as your model (and will be pretty serious if you ask him which look you did, he prefers!). And if you like sports/quidditch, he will train with you or be your biggest cheerleader. He just wants to support you.

so he may, or may not, make this invention especially for you (not for the prank, but to brighten your day and make you smile)

tickle fights

you wearing his jumpers, obv

holds your hand when anxious

now that you're together, he doesn't only stare lovingly at you at classes, but also holds your hand under the desk

cheering for him in every Quidditch game and even wearing his shirt to show your support (unless it's against Hufflepuff... then you're supporting both teams)

him showing off on his broom, making sure you're looking at him

him flying straight to you, after the end of the game (includes sweaty kisses)

your outside make-out sessions are often interrupted by curious animals coming closer to you (he's used to it, he knows that animals just like you, but can't they be curious when he doesn't have his tongue in your mouth??)

you stealing some food from Kitchens and bring it to your bf, when you know he's working on their new intention (he often forgets about eating)

him being surprised seeing you as if it was the first time, but tiredly grinning at you, giving you a quick kiss, and a strong hug, to keep himself going through the night

him grinning at you lovingly, as he's observing you naming the plant he gave you

if u have an allergy to something or just don't like specific food, he makes sure Molly knows it before he invites you to burrow. He may be a tricker but he knows when to hold himself, because he never wants to seriously hurt you or upset you

as his partner, you're making it to the stadium of Molly's favourite in-laws, placing you next to Harry & Hermione

overall, he loves you like crazy, you understand each other and support each other, love full of cuddles and emotional support

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If you would like to read again how you met twins and how friendship with them looked like: [Click]

Normally when she attended these events, she wore neutrals or colors that blended into the decorations. This time, however, Augustine had convinced her to wear a bright and vibrant red ballgown with matching elbow-length gloves. There would be no blending into the walls in this.

As the partygoers spun around down below, her hands clasped and unclasped behind her back in time to the music. She wanted to join the festivities and dancing, but that would be putting her directly in the spotlight. And being in the spotlight brought questions…

The dress she wore covered the four lines on her back from her encounter with Dolores Umbridge, but no amount of makeup could cover up the scar on her face Pius Thicknesse gave her during the Battle of Hogwarts. People would stare, as they always did, and would talk. Never to her, of course. Pureblood society was too “proper” to talk directly. No, it was all hushed whispers amongst themselves.

Same as it always has been, same as it always will be.

“I could make a comment about how you would be prettier if you smile.” Percy Weasley put an arm around Victoria’s waist, drawing her close to him. “But I’m no imbecile.”

Victoria leaned against his touch, her body relaxing slightly against his. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Ernie would disagree.”

“Yeah, well, you brother is his own… special kind of breed.”

His comment drew an undignified snort from Victoria. She rested her head on his shoulder, her cheek bushing against the smooth fabric of his navy colored dress robes. Percy moved his thumb, rubbing a small circle on her side.

“You’re looking tense,” said Percy, softly. “Is everything alright?”

Victoria closed her eyes, letting the world fade to just her and him. It was a fantasy she quite liked and one she thought of more often than she should. The world was bigger than the two of them, and it always would be.

“There’s just a lot of people,” Victoria admitted. “And I know that as soon as we step down they’ll stare at this—” she pointed at the scar on her face “—and I don’t want to deal with that right now.”

If her eyes were open, she would have seen Percy’s blue eyes darken slightly with regret and rage, only a fraction of what they were during the battle. His grip tightened ever so slightly and he drew her closer, as if worried he would lose her if she wasn’t right against his body.

“We don’t have to,” he said after a moment. 

Victoria opened her eyes to look at him. “What?”

“We don’t have to go down.” Percy took one of her hands into his own, pressing a gentle kiss on the back of the glove. “We don’t even have to stay in the ballroom.” His lips trailed higher up. “We could go wherever you want, Vic.”

“They’ll notice,” she started to argue, but it sounded weak, even to her. 

“They’ve all had their fair share of brews and fire whisky, I can guarantee no one is sober.” Percy stopped his kissing right by her shoulder. He leaned in closer to whisper into her ear, “And we’ll be alone.”

Victoria didn’t even pretend to put up a fight. Without saying anything, she grabbed onto his hand and began to lead him out of the loud ballroom. They briskly walked past partygoers as they went down the stairs, not stopping to talk to anyone. No one seemed to mind, and they exited without any issues.

The hallway they found themselves walking down was a stark contrast to the warm and bright ballroom. Most lights in the Estate were dimmed or simply put out to discourage guests from wandering about. Victoria didn’t mind. The moonlight filtering in through the snowy windows  provided enough light for her to see.

It didn’t hurt that she knew these halls like the back of her hand.

As well insulated the corridor was, Victoria could still feel the chill of the outside through the windows. She stepped closer to a frost covered pane, peering outside.

The mountainside was completely covered in fluffy white snow. She watched as some trees bend to the side with the harsh wind, sending even more snow tumbling down onto the ground. The small brook that passed through her mother’s garden was completely frozen over, cutting through the pure white landscape like an inkpot spill.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more glad to not be a muggle,” Percy muttered as he peered over her head to look outside. “Walking through that to get home would be an utter nightmare.”

“That’s why my ancestors built here.” Victoria shivered, stepping away from the window and continuing down the corridor. “Most muggles don’t bother coming up here, even without warding charms.”

The shivering on her end ceased as soon as Percy grasped onto her hand. Warmth flooded through her veins, making her forget the chill.

It was practically silent as they walked, the only noise coming from their footsteps and the faintest echoes of the party. Victoria couldn’t help but pick up on the almost nervous energy radiating off Percy. It was subtle; she doubted anyone else would have picked up on it, but years of being together allowed her to notice his nervous habits. 

She opened her mouth to ask about it, but he spoke before she could get any words out.

“Where was it that thirteen year old Victoria imagined our first kiss?”

Victoria hummed in thought as they continued down, her hold on his hand never loosening. It had been so long since she thought about that particular fantasy, especially considering how often they shared a snog. 

Her footsteps quickened, now moving with a destination in mind.

“How about I show you?” Victoria asked. 

She led him down towards the eastern wing of the estate, passing the portraits of deceased family members without a second glance. It wasn’t until they reached a plain oak door that she stopped.

Taking a deep breath, Victoria pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room was in perfect condition. Against the left wall was a large canopy bed with a light blue quilt covering it. Across from it on the right wall was a small desk with various photos on it.

Percy stepped closer to inspect them as Victoria sat down on the ottoman at the base of the bed. He saw himself and Victoria as twelve year olds waving back at him, still in their Hogwarts robes. 

It suddenly dawned on him where they were.

“You imagined us kissing for the first time in your childhood bedroom?” asked Percy, his tone teasing. 

“No!” Victoria flushed, holding up her hands. “Not in here!”

She got to her feet, crossing the bedroom and opening a door next to a small reading nook. Outside was a small balcony looking out to a different part of the gardens. The balcony wasn’t covered with snow, unlike the rest of the world.

Percy stepped outside with her, looking around. Growing on the stone wall of the estate were bright red roses, ones that were somehow alive despite the cold. They were resilient, just like her.

He took in the sight of Victoria leaning against the railing, her red dress billowing out around her, and knew there would be no better time than the present, no better place than here, to do what he had been wanting and waiting to do for years.

“Vic.” Percy grasped onto her hand, gently pulling her away from the rail. “I’ve known you for half my life, and it’s been so much better with you in it.”

He led her to the center of the balcony, forcing the nerves rushing through his body to go back down. 

“I know we’ve had some trials and rough spots. Some of them were my doing. But you have always been there to help me pick up the pieces and put them back together,” Percy continued.

It seemed to have finally dawned on Victoria as to what he was doing. She covered her mouth with the hand he wasn’t holding, stifling a gasp. Percy took a deep breath through his nose and got down on one knee.

“You have always been my light, and you always will be,” he said softly. “And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of our lives together.”

Percy reached into the pocket of his robes, pulling out a small black box. When he opened it, a simple ring sat in the dark velvet, the small white diamond sparkling in the moonlight.

“Victoria Christine Macmillan, will you marry me?”

The seconds that passed felt like an eternity. Percy watched as a single tear rolled down her face, landing on his cheek.

“Yes,” Victoria whispered. Then, she laughed. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

Percy got to his feet, placing a hand around her waist, and kissed her. He slipped the ring on her finger as she kissed him back, the engagement ring right up against her promise ring. 

Keeping one arm around her waist, he reached down and put the other behind her knees, lifting her up. Percy laughed against her lips as pink flower petals, a side effect of Victoria’s magic, began to mix with the falling snow, leaving them in a shower of pink and white. 

Victoria pulled back after a moment, holding his face with both her hands as he still lifted her up. Her lips were already somewhat swollen, but neither cared.

“Our forever starts now,” she whispered. “Forever,” Percy echoed. “Yes, I think I rather like the sound of that.”